


just you wait

by KestralWatcher



Series: saving space [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Background immortal husbands, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Gen, Temporary Character Death, quotes, welcome to my brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestralWatcher/pseuds/KestralWatcher
Summary: Five times it sails over the immortals’ collective heads when Nile quotesHamiltonat them (and one time she gets called on it).
Series: saving space [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870753
Comments: 44
Kudos: 349





	just you wait

**Author's Note:**

> My life this summer has basically been _Hamilton_ (which I’d literally never heard a note of before July 3) and _The Old Guard_. This was bound to happen eventually. (Or, I’ve had pretty much every song in _Hamilton_ stuck in my head at the same time for the past 2 months and I figured Nile might be the same way.) The individual scenes take place at a variety of time points throughout my series so far, but it’s not necessary to have read those.
> 
> Canon compliant with _The Old Guard_ , but a bit hand-wavy about the credits scene. It’s not necessary to be familiar with _Hamilton_ to read this, but you’ll probably appreciate it more if you recognize the quotes.
> 
> No beta, we die like a political rival had a violent temper tantrum.

i.

In the past week, Nile has seen many expressions on Andy’s face. But she has never before seen this particular shade of pure bafflement.

“You’ve never been on a horse?” Andy asks the question as if confirming she’d heard Nile correctly the first time.

Nile shrugs with arms spread wide. “I grew up in the city and went straight into the military. When was I supposed to hang out with a horse?”

Andy grumbles in yet another unfamiliar language, probably adding this new deficiency in Nile’s American education to her list of topics that must be rectified immediately. She sips her coffee, makes a face at the temperature, and then asks, “Have you at least held a sword?”

Finally, something Nile can answer with an affirmative. “I own a sword!” Or, at least the old Nile did. “Part of the uniform when you become a junior NCO in the Marines.”

Face falling again, Andy mutters something about “useless ceremonial pot metal.”

Her use of English is probably intentional, but Nile chooses not to take offense. “There’s a million things I haven’t done. Just you wait.”

The quote soars over Andy’s head, not that this surprises Nile in the slightest.

Instead, Andy says, “I’m glad you accept that you have a lot to learn. But we’re not waiting. We’re getting you to that million.”

* * *

ii.

It turns out that even Joe’s tirades can be poetic as fuck. Nile appreciates the break from another soliloquy about his love for Nicky (and she’s absolutely certain he does in an attempt to embarrass her, which is why she takes those opportunities to practice her poker face), but she could wish that she had any idea who the politicians facing his current ire are, much less which country Joe is even talking about.

He’s ranting as he rattles around the kitchen, apparently experienced enough with this particular dinner recipe for it to not require his full attention. Nile has been happy to keep him company, perching on an out-of-the-way counter, until she completely loses the thread of the conversation.

Joe chops a shallot as if it has personally offended him. “And to make matters worse, her voting record is utter trash.” After dumping the vegetable into the pan, he turns to Nile and does that weird thing with his eyebrow.

Shit. She has no idea what he expects her to contribute to the conversation. So, she nods and says, “If you stand for nothing, what will you fall for?”

Joe shakes his wooden spoon and crows, “Exactly! I knew you’d understand.”

When he starts to verbally dismember another politician—or is it the same one? She can’t even tell—Nile makes a vague excuse about plugging in her phone and escapes the kitchen. Not even calling first dibs on the drumsticks from the mouth-watering roast in the oven is worth this one-sided conversation.

* * *

iii.

Joe and Andy’s half of the mission is supposed to be as easy as Nile’s had been in Baltimore, but she knows Nicky won’t want to spend the time holed up in the hotel. Instead, they find a bench in a park near the Embassy of Israel and watch the summer sunset, iced coffees in hand.

When they’re together, Joe does a lot of the storytelling. But Nile figured out very quickly that Nicky could be just as much of a fount of information. He just doesn’t necessarily prefer English for long conversations but is always willing to put that aside to speak with Nile, despite her growing closer to fluency in Italian every day.

“So, when’s the first time you guys came to America?” Nile asks. She gestures south, even though they are too far away to see even the tip of the Washington Monument. Hopefully the question will distract Nicky from continually reaching for a nonexistent earpiece.

He sips his coffee, but his distant expression is thoughtful rather than put off by her query. “There was a long time when we didn’t like ships much,” he says, and Nile doesn’t even have to ask the reason behind that. “But eventually we heard too many stories about how the native people of this land were suffering. And after a time, even the English colonists were suffering, too. And Andy—” Here, Nicky bites his lower lip as he pushes a lock of his shaggy hair behind his ear, then says, “Well, Andy didn’t really care about the colonists, but for a long time, pretty much the only thing she did care about was a good fight.”

“Heh, that actually explains a lot,” Nile says. At Nicky’s querying head tilt, she adds, “How does a ragtag volunteer army in need of a shower somehow defeat a global superpower?”

But Nicky waves away what he probably assumes is just a bit of her modern American hyperbole. “You know that wars are different now. But we have always tried to do good where we could.”

At his unassuming words, Nile’s fondness for this man she now calls brother threatens to burst out of her chest, and God, is this how Joe feels all the time, but with attraction added to the mix? No wonder they can’t keep their hands off each other.

But before she can comment, Nicky squints into the distance. “Food truck!” He and Joe have been wildly entertained by this modern take on an old concept and delighted in finding the strangest offerings this entire trip, to Nile’s amusement and Andy’s sufferance. He stands, but then turns to Nile. “Or are you still full from dinner?”

Well, since Joe is not around, Nile supposes that it’s up to her to wipe the threat of dismay from Nicky’s eyes. She collects their empty coffees and tosses them into a nearby trashcan, then tucks her hand in Nicky’s elbow. “I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy, and hungry. There is always room for food truck food.”

He’s already tugging her along, his concentration wholly on the food truck. “ _Si, sempre_. Look, Nile, this one has tacos!”

* * *

iv.

Nile doesn’t mean to take a gut shot. But they’d missed one of the terrorists, and Andy had been about to enter the room, and so she thew herself bodily in front of the door and hoped for the best. Andy immediately returns fire and downs the hostile with a headshot, then crouches next to Nile.

“Sorry, kid. This is going to be a bad one.”

She pats at her stomach before Andy pulls her bloody hand away, resisting the urge to look down. She really doesn’t want that close a look at her intestines, thank you. Pain tightens all her muscles, and tendrils of black already cloud her vision. “Dying is easy. Living is harder.”

When she wakes up, she ignores the trio of relieved expressions that immediately harden into irritation (Andy), warmth (Nicky), and amusement (Joe).

“You have been watching too many action movies, _sorellina_ ,” Joe says as he hauls Nile to her feet. “To be spouting silly catch phrases in the middle of a firefight.”

He pulls her arm over his shoulder and helps her walk out of the bunker, continuing to mutter affectionately in Italian about how he cannot possibly be expected to measure up to such theatrical displays, they are supposed to be _professionals_.

Nile pats his chest, punch-drunk on endorphins from combat and the sheer relief of not dying. “Joe, our life _is_ an action movie.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple, and together they step over the three bodies they left in the stairway on their way into the bunker.

* * *

v.

The combination of jet lag and mission fatigue hits her hard, so Nile is half dozing at the table while the others discuss places to lay low for a while after a string of jobs related to the same organ trafficking ring. They don’t want to split up, but they’ve crossed three continents over the course of snuffing out these particular higher ups, finally eliminating the head in Reykjavik, which limits their immediate options.

Copley’s voice is tinny over the speaker of Joe’s phone. “Unless you want to sit on planes for over twenty-four hours for Melbourne, my best suggestions are New York City or Miami.”

Andy asks, “Isn’t Nicky still wanted in New York City?”

A pause, followed by the rustle of papers, then Copley says, “Technically this safe house is in New Jersey.”

Nile lifts her head from her crossed arms. “Everything’s legal in New Jersey.”

The others stare at her, and even Copley is silent. Joe squeezes her shoulder. “Why don’t you nap on the couch? We’ll wake you when it’s time to move out.”

She doesn’t bother arguing, instead conserving her energy to move far enough collapse on the lumpy loveseat. Her feet, still in her boots, hang off the edge, but at least she is no longer attempting any version of the vertical.

Before sleep claims her completely, she catches the next snatch of conversation from Copley. “I’m pretty sure murder is still illegal in New Jersey.”

* * *

vi.

[petite soeur] sup nerd. Sorry I didn’t text yesterday. Things went long

[petite soeur] Only assholes don’t text back

[petite soeur] maybe you’re drunk. I’m bad at time zones

_3 hours later_

[petite soeur] Now we can be drunk together broooooooo

[petite soeur] Im still bitter we get hangovers

[petite soeur] Youre probably better at hangovers by now

[petite soeur] And everything else

[petite soeur] seriously youre all better at everything else. Sucks so hardcore

[broche] we started earlier

[petite soeur] He liiiiiiiiiiives

[petite soeur] look at where you started

[petite soeur] look at where you are

[petite soeur] Shit those are backward i think

[petite soeur] The fact that you’re alive is a miracle

[broche] Don’t quote that pop-culture fake history bullshit at me.

[petite soeur] YOUVE SEEN HAMILTON

[petite soeur] HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS

[broche] I refuse to discuss that atrocity masquerading as theater with you

_1 hour later_

[broche] you better be asleep by now

[broche] Just stay alive. That would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes:  
> \--“There’s a million things I haven’t done. Just you wait.”  
> \--“If you stand for nothing, what will you fall for?”  
> \-- “How does a ragtag volunteer army in need of a shower somehow defeat a global superpower?” & “I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy, and hungry.”  
> \--“Dying is easy, [young man], living is harder.”  
> \--“Everything’s legal in New Jersey.”  
> \--“Look at where you started. The fact that you're alive is a miracle. Just stay alive, that would be enough.”
> 
> Translations:  
> Si, sempre. = Yes, always. (Italian)  
> sorellina = little sister (Italian)  
> petite soeur = little sister (French)  
> broché = paperback book (French)


End file.
